Prose, Poetry, and Programming | Andrew Ek

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Poem: "Dear Magnifying Glass"

Dear Magnifying Glass,It’s been a while since we last talkedand I feel like I owe you an update:

There’ve been a lot of changes since the last time you saw me,but that isn’t to say that everything’s different.Some things are the way they were before.

For example, If you were to look under my bed you’d find thatI’ve still got a pair of size twelve shoes tucked beneath the frame.You remember the joke my parents used to tell,how they thought my shoe size and my age wouldstay the same forever. You laughed every time, but that jokestopped working when I turned thirteen and my feet stayed size 12.My parents will still tell it if you give them the chance.

Part of the difference is that I’m finally growing into my feet,I’m starting to figure out the breadth of my shouldersand the span of my reach. I’m almost a human being now.My spine is still wrapped with piano wire that keeps merigid upright, but it’s slowly loosening.

Iambic chest pump beatingper-fectper-fectper-fect myselfper-fectper-fection I must becomeper-fectionper-fect I must make myselfper-fect

but it doesn’t beat loud like it used toand I have you to thank, Magnifying Glass,for showing me how to look for my redeeming featuresand now the list of my personal failings I keep hiddenbeneath my mattress is a lot shorter than it used to be.

I’ve become more honest, too, than you might rememberAnd I don’t hate myself as much.

Along with my good, you taught me to look for God,Magnifying Glass, and I built my vertebrae like theTower of Babel every night, I wanted nothing more thanto see the face of God, and yeah, I read my Bible, I knewno one survives something like that but it was all I could doto escape the crushing weight of my own inadequacieswritten all around the inside of my skull.

I don’t pray anymore for death.I barely pray at all, but when I do, it’s for peace.

There’s an opera-house in your eyes, Magnifying Glass,but I haven’t heard divine since the last time I heard you sing.It’s not that I’ve stopped listening; my ears are still open.I just don’t try as hard to hear what I can’t.

I spend my time instead unwrapping the piano wire aroundmy spine that keeps me rigid upright. I’m learning flexibility.And I don’t stack my vertebrae like the Tower of Babel anymore,I don’t measure myself by how close I am to reaching heaven.

I’d rather measuring myself along the curve of your spine, butMagnifying Glass, we speak different languages now,so what’s the use?

I’ve got a 4 AM bottle of whiskey that says “I still love you”but I’m not much into liquid courage these daysI’d prefer the real thing,Iambic heart-pump beating softper-fectper-fectper-fect